


take the pleasure (with the pain)

by feeltripping



Series: can't feel my face (when I'm with you) [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blow Jobs, Bottom Lexa, F/F, Face-Sitting, Finger Sucking, Light Dom/sub, Oral Sex, Orgasm Denial, Spanking, Strap-Ons, Subspace, Top Clarke, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-11 12:55:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7893292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feeltripping/pseuds/feeltripping
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Filled request for: </p><p>Lexa orgasm denial, plus a few other moments of sin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	take the pleasure (with the pain)

Lexa has been tense for two weeks, worse everyday. She’s fallen asleep at her desk, slumped over books and casefiles and her laptop for the last three days, hunched over in the morning as she goes to the bathroom for a shower to make her back loosen up enough to stand straight. They’ve been through this dance before--Lexa will get snappish and guilty, in turns, if Clarke tries to interfere, so she lets it run its course; tucks protein bars into Lexa’s briefcase, wakes up five minutes before Lexa so the bathroom is steaming and the water is hot by the time she staggers in. It’s not like Lexa hasn’t done the same, on weeks where Clarke is too tired to drive after her shift, catching sleep only in twenty minute increments in a hospital closet. 

 

Lexa is asleep when Clarke comes home after a ten hour surgery, on her back, her legs hanging off the couch, still in her shoes and mock trial clothes, her hair in a pile of neat curls over one shoulder, her arm thrown over her face. Clarke throws leftovers into a bowl and leaves the microwave humming while she showers. When she comes out in soft pajama pants and a t-shirt Lexa hasn’t moved at all, her breathing deep and even. Clarke eats, watches the news on mute, and does the dishes before going back to the couch. 

“Lexa.” She touches Lexa’s cheek with her palm, applying very little pressure. “Lex.”

“Hm,” Lexa mumbles, and swats out blindly. “S’fine.”

“Come on, time for bed.”

“Shh,” Lexa says, shoving herself deeper into the cushions. “I’ll do it tomorrow.”

Clarke bends and kisses her, Lexa’s lips barely twitching in response. “You’ll sleep better with me next to you.”

Lexa cracks an eye open, her voice vaguely hopeful. “Naked?”

Clarke smiles. “Sure.” She helps Lexa get up and Lexa sways into her, snuffling into her shoulder. They walk, fumbly and bumping, to the bedroom and Clarke props her on the bed to strip her of her jacket, her blouse, her slacks, her shoes, wiping her makeup off with a wipe. Clarke undoes her bra last, kisses Lexa’s chest gently before leaning her back under the blanket, fluffing the pillow under her head. 

“Naked,” Lexa reminds her, and Clarke rolls her eyes before stripping off her own clothes and sliding next to Lexa under the cool sheets. Lexa sighs, wiggling close and nosing down Clarke’s neck, lifting herself up slightly to flop on Clarke’s chest, her face between Clarke’s breasts. She licks out, once, and sighs again, settling. 

Clarke smoothes her hair. “Mock trial over?” Lexa hums, affirmative. “You win?”

“I always win,” Lexa says, and nips at the underside of Clarke’s left breast. Her breath huffs out warm and even, and her toes drag down Clarke’s right calf before she’s out like a light, her fingers curled on Clarke’s hip.

++

Clarke wakes up to the sensation of air moving over a long wet stripe across her upper thigh. She opens her eyes and looks down her own body; the covers have been tossed aside and Lexa is kneeling between her thighs, her back bowed as she licks across Clarke’s skin and then blows across it, cooling. Clarke shivers, spreading her legs; Lexa looks at her and smiles, eyes sleepy, hazy. “Morning,” Clarke whispers. 

“I’ve missed you,” is what Lexa says in response. She kisses just below the swell of Clarke’s belly, above her hipbones. “I’ve been neglecting you.”

“Not neglect,” Clarke protests, even as she tilts her head back and closes her eyes, arching up as Lexa sets her teeth at the top of her ribcage. “Just busy. You know I--” Lexa sucks abruptly and Clarke’s breath catches. “--get it. It’s not like I’m not the same way when--” Lexa bites her three times in a row, small hard nips. Clarke loses her train of thought, sucking on her own bottom lip and shivering, letting out small noises at each pinching press of Lexa’s teeth until Lexa pulls back. Clarke opens her eyes; Lexa’s sitting up, her lips swollen and red, flushed all the way down her chest, her nipples pebbled. “Come here,” Clarke says, and she’s hardly finished saying it before Lexa’s lips are pressed against her, eager, skin against skin all down their torsos. They kiss for a while, changing angles and murmuring wordlessly, before Lexa sinks into her throat with a soft growl. 

“Do you want my fingers?”

Clarke squeezes handfuls of Lexa’s ass with both hands. “I love your fingers, but--can I--your mouth though,” she groans, when Lexa kisses her again. “Your tongue.”

Lexa slides down her body again, stopping to seal her lips around a nipple and swirl her tongue until Clarke smacks her asscheek, gentle. Lexa kisses her inner thighs, and puts Clarke’s legs up on her shoulders. She reaches up and anchors Clarke’s hands into her hair. When Clarke pulls hard Lexa moans; it rumbles through Clarke at her center and she gasps, rolling her hips. Lexa eats her out softly, messily, all gentle scrapes of her teeth and careful licking, pausing to roll her face into Clarke’s slick, up her cheek and down her chin, wet and glistening. Clarke twists Lexa’s hair against her fingers, holds Lexa’s head still while she grinds in slow circles. When she comes it’s on an exhale, shuddering, and Lexa works her through it, feeling the aftershocks against her tongue and her lips, until Clarke murmurs and twitches away, sensitive.

Lexa wraps around her. “Love you,” she mumbles, already drifting off again.

Clarke nudges a finger against Lexa’s hip. “You don’t want…?”

“S’okay,” Lexa sighs, pressing even closer. “I’m so tired.”

“You study too hard,” Clarke admonishes, gentle. She wipes at a streak of wetness high on Lexa’s cheek. 

Lexa mumbles something garbled, then nips at Clarke’s skin. “Don’t like it when it’s been so long,” she says, and Clarke understands. 

“You need to sleep, and eat, and rest.” She digs her nails into Lexa’s hip, enough to sting. “I’ll plan something good for you, baby. For next week.” Lexa shivers, happy, and hums, anticipatory. “Not now, go to sleep.”

++

Lexa only lasts only a few days of coming home by five, helping cook, doing dishes side by side, falling asleep curled up and snuggling in front of the television, before she starts to look up at Clarke through her eyelashes, lingering touches on her wrist, more tongue when they kiss goodbye at the beginning of the day. She slides her foot up Clarke’s thigh on the couch, pouts when Clarke drags her to bed only to insist on keeping a tall glass of water on Lexa’s side and turning off the light. 

“You still have bags under your eyes,” Clarke tells her after a hot and heavy kiss against the kitchen counter, Lexa pressing her into the cabinets, her teeth on Clarke’s throat. “And what I have planned…” she trails off and Lexa crowds her, dark eyed and almost panting. “You’ll need your full strength.” Lexa slumps, disappointed, and Clarke rubs below her ear, comforting. “Trust me, baby. I’ll take care of you. It’s only Tuesday.”

++

On Wednesday, Clarke comes home and Lexa’s in what Clarke fondly calls her lesbian power suit, her hair wildly curly and cascading down her shoulders and her back in a untamed tumble, sitting on the couch with her legs spread, her pants riding up from her dark socks and shined black shoes. She’s wearing a tie _and_ suspenders, and Clarke barely closes the door behind her, shoving her bag off to the ground before she straddles Lexa, kissing her hard. Lexa lifts her up by her ass, biting at Clarke’s shirt until Clarke throws it off, her bra snapping against her as she fumbles to get it off. Lexa’s palm presses against her spine and Clark wraps a hand around the back of Lexa’s neck, drawing her forward so Lexa can suck at her breasts, tug at a nipple with her teeth. 

“You did this on purpose,” Clarke accuses, and feels Lexa smirk against her. “You know what this suit does to me.”

“I got impatient,” Lexa murmurs against her breast. “Sit on my lap for a second.” She tugs Clarke down by her hips and pushes her torso slightly back, Clarke’s arms looped loosely on her shoulders, around her head. Lexa trails satisfied fingers over the bruises on Clarke’s ribcage, starting to fade. 

Clarke twitches her hips, her brow furrowing before her breath catches. “Are you?”

Lexa smirks. “Feel something you like?”

“Oh,” Clarke says, reaching between them with one hand and feeling the hard bulge in Lexa’s pants. “You will pay for this, you know.”

Lexa adopts a facade of innocence. “I’m just trying out things I think you’ll like, baby.”

Clarke undoes the top button of Lexa’s pants. “Oh I like it.” She undoes the second button, sliding her fingers in and groaning when she realizes Lexa’s not wearing any underwear, the soft rubber smooth and warm under her fingers. “You’ll have to dryclean this after , you know.”

“Worth it,” Lexa says, spreading her legs wide as Clarke brings the dildo out of her pants opening and makes a loose fist around it, jacking slow. She slips her hands across Clarke’s face, sliding over her ears to smooth her hair. She applies pressure, her eyebrow quirking in request, and Clarke nods, sliding to her knees on the floor. Lexa takes a deep breath, slouching until her ass is on the edge of the couch, her hips tilted down. Clarke suckles at the tip of the toy, watching Lexa through slitted eyes; Lexa swallows, hard, her mouth falling slack and open as Clarke takes more and more in her mouth and down her throat. She makes it messy and lazy, letting drool cling to the corner of her mouth, stringing, not bothering to mind her teeth and sucking until she slurps. Lexa tilts her head back on the back of the couch, breathing hard, sweat clinging to her hairline as she bites her lip and rides her hips forward, Clarke gagging quietly on every third thrust, humming continuously. 

Clarke digs her fingers into Lexa’s thighs, massaging. She pulls back and rubs her cheek against the dildo, smearing spit across her face before wiping off on Lexa’s pantleg. “On the floor for me.” She scoots back on her heels, wiggling ungainly to get her pants and underwear off, watching Lexa stand, her hand at the base of the harness. She slips off her suit jacket, leaving it lying across the couch, before lying down on the rug on her back, feet braced firmly. Clarke puts a knee on either side of her chest and scoots forward, Lexa’s hands on her hips, urging, until Lexa licks into her with a hungry noise, her eyes shut, her jaw working.

Lexa hums when Clarke squeezes her thighs around her face, settling her weight down hard; Clarke presses hard it until Lexa taps her hip, rising up until Lexa licks her lips, sucking in air, and nods before repeating, until Lexa squirms under her, panting, and Clarke has to brace her hands and elbows on the floor, gasping. “Okay,” she says after another tap from Lexa, moving wobbly limbs just enough to push herself down Lexa’s body, the dildo jabbing her in the ass. “Ready?”

Lexa nods, without pause, until Clarke rises up and sinks down, taking the toy inside her in one smooth motion. “Fuck,” Lexa chokes out, her head thrown back and straining. Her legs are propped up enough Clarke can lean on them a little, bracing her hands on Lexa’s body and starting a slow roll. She speeds up quickly when Lexa sneaks a hand between them, rubbing her own clit with a knuckle at the perfect position for Clarke to grind on, straining to slip under the strap and touch herself. 

“Not until I say,” Clarke warns, and Lexa nods jerkily, sucking her lip between her teeth. Clarke slumps into her, mouthing at Lexa’s neck as she works herself up and down hard and fast--she only has a heartbeat of notice before her orgasms crests, flowing through her. She collapses in a wave of shivers, panting wetly against Lexa’s shoulder; she can feel Lexa’s fingers still moving between them. “No touch,” Clarke orders, and Lexa whines, but her hand moves away from her clit and around to Clarke’s spine, pulling her closer. Clarke moves her hips, testing; Lexa whimpers, her hands on Clarke’s ass, urging Clarke to move faster. 

“Clarke,” she murmurs, pleading. 

“Next time I’ll have you wear this all day,” Clarke says, directly into Lexa’s ear. She nips at the soft lobe. “Come home and sit at your desk, write out mock briefs.” She snaps one of Lexa’s suspender straps. “I’ll crawl under the desk.” Lexa groans, shivering, her hips jerking in small desperate movements. “Would you want me to suck your dick, or take it off and eat you out while you’re on the phone with Anya?” Lexa groan breaks on a noise, halfway between a sob and a gasp. 

“Can I,” she begs, “Clarke, please, can I--”

“Yeah,” Clarke says, and then bites down hard when Lexa moves to slip a hand between them again. “No, you’re going to come untouched.” Lexa twitches so hard Clarke jostles, before bearing down hard and grinding in small, fast movements. “Make it good, baby, because you’re not going to come again for a week.”

Lexa stills, eyes wide.

“You heard me.” Clarke hesitates. “Play with me, baby?”

“Okay,” Lexa says, shaky. Clarke has no intention of coming again tonight, but she can’t help the flush of heat in her belly, her sharp twitch of arousal. 

“Say it,” she orders.

“I won’t come after this,” Lexa gasps, while Clarke presses a thumb to her clit and puts her weight behind it, the harness biting into her knuckles. “Not for-- _oh my god_ , ah, ---not for a week.”

“Good girl,” Clarke says, pulling Lexa’s tie tight across her throat and Lexa comes, her face going slack and blissed out. 

++

Lexa blinks at her when Clarke switches off the reading lamp and slides down onto the mattress, eyes dark and flirty. Lexa hesitates, a textbook propped in her lap. “I thought--?”

“Well,” Clarke says, “ _you_ can’t come.” Lexa’s jaw drops, affronted, and Clarke slides a hand under her pajamas and into her underwear, sighing softly as she starts to play with herself, slow and easy. 

“Clarke,” Lexa whines. 

“Shh,” Clarke says, letting her eyes go heavy lidded and her voice rasp. “Do your reading.” She gets five minutes of Lexa shifting beside her, the little huffs of distraction, the passive aggressive flipping of the pages, before Lexa breaks, just as Clarke starts to moan, throaty, her hand moving faster. Lexa thumps the textbook on the floor and hooks Clarke’s ankle with her foot. 

“Can I kiss you,” she asks, pleading, “can I touch you?”

“Okay,” Clarke says, and Lexa exhales, pleased, before nudging Clarke’s hand out of the way and replacing it with her own, sliding two fingers in at the same time she and Clarke kiss. “Just like that,” Clarke breathes against Lexa’s lips, “perfect, baby, just like that.” Clarke comes easily, Lexa on top of her, Lexa’s tongue in her mouth, her leg wrapped around Lexa’s hips. Lexa sighs, after, and presses their foreheads together. 

“Can I,” she asks, almost shy, and Clarke shivers, an aftershock startling her with its intensity.

“Yeah.” Lexa cleans her hand with her mouth open, her tongue flicking through her fingers, sucking noisily at the tips. “Good girl,” she says, and some of the strain in Lexa’s face eases, her eyelids fluttering. Clarke pulls her close, turning them on their sides. “You made me feel so good, my good girl,” she says, possessive, and Lexa relaxes in her hold, lolling. “So obedient, so sexy. I promise I’ll make you come over and over, after this, just for being so good for me.”

“Yeah,” Lexa says, dreamy, sounding almost drunk, and Clarke knows she’s floating, more tuned to Clarke’s voice, then what Clarke’s actually saying. “Your good girl.”

“I’m gonna play with you tomorrow,” Clarke says, watching Lexa go under a little more at the growled promise, “gonna make you squirm, make you scream.” Lexa’s eyes shut; she tips her head back, a bruise from Clarke’s teeth standing out dark on the column of her neck. Clarke presses a fingertip to its center and pushes hard. Lexa goes boneless, melting into Clarke and the mattress. She makes a single, joyous noise, low and long.

“Thank you,” she mumbles, biting absently at the pillowcase.

“Go to sleep, pet,” Clarke says. “We’ll play tomorrow.”

++

Clarke’s a little nervous and Lexa can tell; she lays herself on top of Clarke into the couch and kisses her sweetly, no heat, the soft wet slide of their tongues, their chapped lips pressed together, their noses bumping, hands sliding softly across clothed bodies, until the doorbell rings. She pays the delivery boy and hands Clarke a carton of fried rice, the chopsticks stabbed into it. “Thanks,” Clarke says, absently watching the movie playing on the television. She scoots over to make room for Lexa on the couch and blinks after a minute, looking up at Lexa, questioning. Lexa is watching her, breathing deep and even. “Lex?”

“Clarke,” Lexa says, hoarse, and kneels in a single folding motion, resting her head against Clarke’s knee. 

Clarke’s breath catches. “Baby,” she murmurs, and Lexa shivers. She rubs at Lexa’s face, under Lexa’s jaw. “Good girl.” Lexa shudders, once; her head lolls. Clarke eats, measured, even though she’s suddenly not hungry for food anymore; she pauses, once in awhile, to feed Lexa with her own chopsticks, tucking small bites of rice and egg and chicken and watch Lexa chew slowly, dreamy, her eyes cast down, her hands around Clarke’s ankle. The bag of takeout is by the couch on the floor and she fishes out the slices of complimentary orange, pressing the flesh of the fruit against Lexa’s teeth and watching her throat work as she sucks the juice out. She toys with the idea of Lexa crawling after her to the bedroom, but there’s still a hesitation when Lexa eats from her hand, she’s not quite ready. 

“Color,” Clarke says, and Lexa swallows hard.

“Green.”

“Good girl.” Lexa smiles at her, loose and trusting and in love, and Clarke smoothes a lock of hair behind Lexa’s ear. “Get undressed.” Lexa stands, stripping quickly, and resumes her position at Clarke’s feet, sitting back on her heels, her hands on her thighs, her head down. Clarke bites back a moan at the sight of her. She nestles a foot between Lexa’s legs, rubbing her shin against Lexa’s center, feeling the faint damp of her. She nudges harder and Lexa’s hips rise automatically, rocking down before she stills herself. “Until I say stop,” Clarke says, and Lexa flushes bright even as she starts to ride Clarke’s leg, her lip sucked between her teeth, her breathing increasing. Clarke feels her get wetter, less friction as she slides, soaked, her pupils blown. Clarke waits until her breathing gets ragged and she bucks her hips, shameless. “Stop.” Lexa stops, her cheek pressed into Clarke’s calf, her back bowed. “Color.”

Lexa’s throat works for a second before she stops. She tilts her head to the side, baring her neck, licks at Clarke’s skin. She blinks incredibly slowly, her eyes shut longer than they’re open, and Clarke waits until she comes back to herself, licking at her lips. “Green,” she says, hoarse. “Thank you.” 

Clarke stands and offers Lexa her hand. “Ready?” Lexa hesitates, her hands fisting before they relax. “Need a little more?” Lexa nods, eyes pleading, and Clarke sits, pats her lap. “Facedown.” Lexa crawls into her lap and presses her face into the couch cushion, sighing pleased as she feels Clarke’s skin against hers, Clarke’s boyshorts ridden up almost uncomfortably. Clarke settles her, a hand pressed firmly against the backs of Lexa’s thighs. She rubs at Lexa’s ass, massaging, until Lexa’s boneless against her; the first smack makes her jolt up, drawn tight for a second before she resumes her position.

“One,” Lexa says, without prompting.

“Good girl,” Clarke says, and Lexa shudders. Clarke can feel how wet she is, how hot she’s burning; her next hit is calculated to be surprising, just below the swell of Lexa’s ass, and Lexa sighs as she sinks lower into her headspace, lifting her hips just slightly to present herself. 

“Two.” 

Clarke rubs at the mark, faintly pink, digs her nails in to leave red bright red crescents in the muscle.

 

She gets to seventeen before Lexa whispers “Yellow.” She dips two fingers in to see how wet she is; drenched and twitching against her probing fingers. She stands, drawing Lexa against her on wobbly legs; Lexa walks just behind her to the bedroom, sucking at Clarke’s neck, leaning her forehead on Clarke’s shoulder. 

“All fours,” Clarke says, and watches Lexa crawl onto the mattress, bracing herself on her elbows, her ass lifted high and dark red, Clarke’s handprint standing out on her skin, her cunt glistening. “Rules?”

“Don’t come,” Lexa says after a few seconds, her tone drifty and loose. “Be good.”

Clarke slides behind her, on her knees, and kisses the base of her spine. “Yellow if you need a break, Red if you need to stop. Understand?”

“Yes Clarke.”

“Good girl.” Clarke bends and noses at Lexa’s entrance, breathes warm air across her lips. She turns, lying on her back, and brings Lexa’s center down on her mouth. “No grinding; no moving,” she orders, and holds Lexa just so, so she can lick up into her, nip at her thighs, without Lexa pressed so tight she can’t breathe. 

Lexa shudders over her, breathing hard; Clarke can feel her muscles twitch and spasm, see them play under her skin as she works to stay still, be good. “Yellow,” Lexa pants, after almost twenty minutes, and Clarke slides back to her knees. 

“You lasted so long,” she murmurs, rubbing a soothing hand in circles on Lexa’s back while she pants. “Can you do ten more minutes, babygirl? For me?”

“For you,” Lexa repeats, mumbly. “Yeah, yeah. Green.”

Clarke stays behind her, enjoying the new angle. By the strangled moan Lexa lets out, she’s enjoying it too. She keeps half an eye on the clock; with two minutes left she slaps lightly at the red marks on Lexa’s ass while she fucks her with her tongue. Lexa shouts at the first hit and keens at the second, before her noises become muffled. Clarke hits her with the flat of her hand, hard. “I didn’t say you could bite the pillow,” she says, sharp, and Lexa’s head jerks up. “Good girl,” she says softly when Lexa cries out at the next three slaps, high breathy sobs. “Time’s up.”

Lexa’s spine slumps slightly, relieved. “Thank you,” she whispers. She starts to slide down to her stomach and Clarke aims a gentle smack against her clit; Lexa jumps up the bed so hard she almost knocks into the headboard.

“I’m not done with you. On your back.” Lexa obeys, spreading herself wide in silent apology. Clarke drags her nails up Lexa’s inner thighs and hums. “Good girl. Color?”

“Green.”

Clarke checks the clock again. She lies on her belly, her cheek on Lexa’s hip. “Do you remember what I said last night?”

Lexa’s head lolls, her brow furrowed, “I--”

“Shh.” Clarke licks her once, the whole length of her. “It’s okay, baby, I’ll tell you.”

Lexa’s face goes relaxed, trusting. “Thank you.”

“Gonna make you scream,” Clarke says, “Gonna eat you out for the next half hour, and at the end of it, you’re still not going to come.” Lexa’s eyes rolls back into her head; she shudders once, with her whole body, then goes limp. 

“Yes Clarke,” she murmurs. 

Clarke noses at Lexa’s clit. “What are you?”

Lexa takes a breath, exhales soft and slow. Her eyes blink; her hands wind tightly in the bedframe. “Your good girl.”

“Mine,” Clarke says, and goes to work.

 

“Yellow,” Lexa keens, and Clarke pulls away, rubbing at her jaw to ease the ache. Lexa hasn’t stopped twitching for last ten minutes, one leg up to keep herself from twisting away from Clarke’s mouth, keep herself pressed flat against the mattress. Clarke nips at the spread of bruising that maps from the juncture of Lexa’s right thigh all the way to half to her knee, bright red marks that will fade to black and blue, yellow and green, sharper and darker where Clarke had used her teeth. Lexa shakes, sucking in harsh breaths; she trembles desperately. “Please,” she’s mumbling under her breath, seemingly unknowingly, “please, please.” Clarke flicks one of her teethmarks and Lexa jolts.

“Deep breath,” Clarke orders, and presses a hand against Lexa’s ribcage to feel it expand.

Lexa takes three before she can manage to find herself again. “Green,” she says, and Clarke smiles before sliding back to work, moving more slow, more careful. It’s been thirty minutes now, since she started, and Lexa’s only asked for a break the two times. 

Clarke sucks against Lexa’s clit, then grazes it, hard, with her teeth. Lexa shouts, straining up; her torso twists when she comes back down, and Clarke does it three more times; on the final time Lexa screams, hoarse and low, unable to stop her body from jerking up against Clarke’s mouth and then flinching away, too much. “Yellow,” she begs.

Clarke scootches up the bed, lying quietly next to Lexa’s shoulder and watching pleasured agony roll across her face, her hands white around the metal frame. “Good girl,” she murmurs, and Lexa twitches again, desperate. There are small tears slipping from her eyes, down her cheeks, into her hair and across her jaw. 

“Stop,” she mumbles, “please, Clarke, stop.” Clarke runs a hand down Lexa’s chest, cupping her breast gently and rubbing at her ribs. She waits until Lexa’s breathing is more even, and her mumbling has eased.

“You need Red, baby?”

Lexa shakes her head. “I’ll be good.”

Clarke kisses her, carefully soft. “You’re always good. Tell me the truth: you need to stop?”

Lexa frowns for a second, then shakes her head. “Green.”

Clarke pets her cheek, swipes a few tears away gently. “You sure?”

“Green,” Lexa repeats, breathy. “But--can I?” She rests a hand on Clarke’s head.

“Yeah, both hands, if you want?” Lexa sinks both hands into Clarke’s hair and some of the tension in her bleeds away as she anchors herself. “My good girl,” Clarke praises, “asking for what she needs.” Lexa shivers again, her legs part as Clarke slides between them. “Not long now, baby. Big breath.”

 

Lexa cries for the last ten minutes, desperately as she bucks and twists hard under Clarke, fingers of one hand tangled hard, trying to pull Clarke away and then press her back against her; she can’t hold herself in position, her free hand claws blindly at the sheets, the mattress. She’s so wet Clarke can barely get any friction, Lexa flooding her mouth, drenching the sheets, hot and swollen and dripping sweat. Every fifteen seconds she manages a “Green,” punched out between her sobs, she doesn’t stop for a full minute after Clarke’s pulled away, still writhing and gasping and shaking, mumbling ‘green’ over and over. 

It takes her another two minutes to stop crying, her chest shaking as Clarke carefully gathers her up. “Clarke,” she begs, tilting her head up, and Clarke kisses her until Lexa’s still under her. 

Clarke rubs her hipbone, comforting. “Babe?”

“Thank you,” Lexa rasps. Her fingers twitch. 

Clarke rubs Lexa’s stomach, big soothing circles. “Let me know a little more, please.”

“M’okay,” Lexa slurs. They stay cuddled until Lexa’s muscles have stopped spasming. When Clarke moves to sit up Lexa makes a broken pleading noise, reaching out.

“Gotta get cleaned up,” Clarke says, dropping a quick kiss to her nose. “I’ll be right back.” She grabs a clean sheet from the cabinet in the bathroom, dampens a washtowel. When she comes back into the bedroom Lexa’s migrated all the way over to the edge of the bed; her eyes are strained. Clarke drops the sheet on the edge of the bed and wraps herself around Lexa’s body. “Sshh,” she says, soft. “Did we go too hard?”

Lexa whines, pressing closer. “Missed you,” she mumbles. She nudges her face into Clarke’s neck. “M’not…” she trails off, then makes a frustrated noise.

“Sshh,” Clarke says again. “I know. It’s okay, you went pretty deep. Deep breaths, baby, I’m here.” Lexa wiggles, inching even closer, and Clarke pulls Lexa on top of her, encouraging Lexa to rest her head on Clarke’s chest, her nose against Clarke’s neck. “Too much?”

“No,” Lexa says, settling her weight down more firmly. “Please.”

“Good girl,” Clarke whispers against Lexa’s ear. “So good tonight, so perfect. I’m so happy with you, I’m so in love with you. I’m the luckiest person in the world. I love you, baby.”

“Love you,” Lexa says, sighing as she completely relaxes. 

++

Clarke draws Lexa a bath, uses the salts Lexa likes, helps her to ease into it, sighing. She drags a chair over to the tub and washes Lexa’s hair, massaging long and deep, Lexa boneless under her fingers. She nudges Lexa’s hands away and runs the loofah over her skin, careful between her legs and on her ass and thighs. “You’re too good to me,” Lexa teases, when Clarke wraps her in a thick fluffy towel, her hair dripping on the tiled floor. 

“You’re perfect,” Clarke says, and Lexa’s eyes smile when they kiss.

“Perfect enough not to wait four more days?”

“Don’t ruin the game,” Clarke says, and Lexa rolls her eyes. “How about tomorrow you lie down on the bed and spread those long perfect legs and I’ll press on those pretty marks I gave you.”

Lexa shivers, her eyes glazing over. “Yeah,” she says, hoarse. She takes a step closer, intent.

“Tomorrow,” Clarke says firmly. “We need to eat, and you need to rest.” 

Lexa dresses, arching her back and groaning as her muscles protest. “Mmkay.”

Clarke catches her at the door, kisses her quick and filthy. “In four days, you’re going to come until you beg me to stop, and then one more time.”

“Yeah,” Lexa says, licking her lips. She smiles. “Good.”

 

She sits on the couch, wincing slightly, and Clarke rubs at her skin until she relaxes, settling behind her. Clarke combs out Lexa’s hair, the way Lexa likes it, when the bristles drag against her scalp, and braids it carefully to the side. She drops a kiss to the back of Lexa’s neck and Lexa leans back against her, still a little slow. “Drop?” Clarke asks after half an hour, faintly worried. Lexa shakes her head.

“S’good. I’m tired.”

Clarke checks her watch. “Nap now, eat in a bit?”

“Yeah,” Lexa sighs, snuggling down. “Love you.”

Clarke kisses her temple. “Love you.”

**Author's Note:**

> i also... feel compelled to apologize for people who commented on my other fics and received a response from me today... 
> 
> I was crossfaded, my bad. Hope this sin makes up for it. fyi still drunk sort of so there may be typos and such.
> 
> i'm on tumblr as feeltripping and i'm never doing anything if you wanna kick me a prompt


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